


Distance

by PartridgeOnAPearTree



Series: Transversal [29]
Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Please read the previous parts first! :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 03:42:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8733433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartridgeOnAPearTree/pseuds/PartridgeOnAPearTree
Summary: He could remember white clearly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm so sorry this took so long. Uni has murdered me again (again) A G A I N (chorus: again)  
> I don't know if people are still reading this, but I'll post it anyway... If you don't mind, can you tell me if you're reading this?  
> My semester ends in five days. Hopefully, I can update What We Meant soon :)
> 
> Project Hope Log #3: http://partridgeonapeartree.tumblr.com/private/153973072447/tumblr_ohlc5wanYL1s8t9gp

The clouds were white. Sometimes they were gray, sometimes they were black, but the image in his head was of clouds that were white. A cloud is a mass in the sky that is made of many very small drops of water, a visible mass of particles of condensed vapor such as water or ice suspended in the atmosphere of a planet as the earth or moon.

 

Clouds. He could remember clouds clearly.

 

Snow, too, was white. They're soft and white pieces of frozen water that fall to the ground from the sky in the cold weather, a precipitation in the form of small white ice crystals formed directly from the water vapor of the air at a temperature of less than…

 

Less than?

 

Thirty-two degrees Fahrenheit.

 

Zero degrees Celsius.

 

Snow. He could remember snow clearly.

 

Milk was also white. It’s a white liquid produced by a person’s mammary glands to feed their baby or by female animals to feed their young, especially from cows or goats that is used as food by people. It’s secreted by their mammary glands for the nourishment of their young.

 

Milk. He could remember milk clearly.

 

White. White. White.

 

He could remember white clearly.

 

**01001011 01101111 01101101 01100001 01100101 01100100 01100001**

Had white h a i r

 

That person’s hair was white. He doesn’t know who they are and what they look like, but all he knows is that their hair was white. Their hair was soft and pleasing to touch, and it looks fluffier than all of the best pillows in the world combined. It curls so beautifully and so perfectly, as if even the most minuscule details of it are something to appreciate.

 

**01010111 01001000 01001001 01010100 01000101**

**01001000 01000001 01001001 01010010**

 

He could remember white clearly.

 

\--

 

“What is your name?”

 

There was a teenage boy—presumably around sixteen or seventeen years old—on the operation table. He was sitting on it with his back hunched, his long black hair concealing his face from everyone in the room. He was wearing a light blue hospital gown—nothing special with its design, no other marks aside from the plain blue color.

 

Despite the question, the boy keeps his silence, and he doesn’t even move an inch from his position. What he does, however, is to look up and face the person who delivered him the query. His red eyes throw an empty and uninterested glare as the man repeats the question.

 

“What is your name?” No reply. “Do you know who you are?”

 

All the people in the room, dressed up in similar white lab gowns, were eyeing him expectantly. Some are holding a pen and a notepad, and others have their hands idly positioned on their laptops’ keyboards as if ready to type anytime. One stood out—he was simply leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, but the look in his eyes can’t be anything else but muted anticipation as well.

 

“…It does not matter.” The boy finally speaks after what felt like an infinite silence in the room. The sounds of pens scribbling on paper and keys of keyboards being pushed are shortly heard. “A name does not matter. I am here to learn.”

 

It was undoubtedly joyful murmurs that filled the room afterward, albeit this setting being admittedly unorthodox. The people in white started shaking each other’s hands, uttering soft words of congratulations and thanks. The boy previously leaning against the wall starts to leave.

 

“A fine point.” The man who delivered the previous question replies, instantly hushing the murmurs. “However, identification is important. Your name is Kamukura Izuru. It is a pleasure to meet you. I—no. All of us. All of us look forward to getting to know you better.”

 

He doesn’t respond. There's no point in responding.

 

\--

 

“Uncooperative, aren’t you?” The boy, now called Kamukura, is sitting on a chair in an unfamiliar room with one of the people from earlier. The man was across him on a chair of his own, a laptop comfortably perched on his legs. “How are you feeling right now?”

 

Silence. Kamukura’s eyes were firmly trained on a spot on the floor as if it was suddenly the recipient of all of his interest. Nothing was remarkable on the floor, not even patterns of grids or other shapes. The floor was white, pure white, devoid of any other details.

 

“Kamukura-kun, I asked you a question.”

 

“You are monitoring me, recording what I do.” He speaks, although the attention of his eyes was still held by the plain white floor. “Why is that?”

 

“Oh?” The man lifts an eyebrow. “I am supposed to be the one asking questions, but I suppose this is better than you not saying anything. Let me see… I am doing what I do because I have to. We have to make sure that you are at your best.”

 

“Best?” Kamukura looks up, lifting an eyebrow of his own too. “I am here to learn. If there is something I have to do, I know that I will be able to do it well and yield the ‘best’ results.”

 

“Of course I personally do not doubt that. Just your mere presence screams talent already. However, we have to follow certain instructions.” The man replies as he types. “So how are you feeling? I know you might find this tedious, so you should cooperate to get this over with quickly.”

 

“Unnecessary. Uninteresting. But you do it anyway. Why is that?”

 

“This might be completely unnecessary to you but that is not the case for us. That is why I have to be patient. We have to be patient.”

 

“Patient.” Kamukura repeats. “Being patient is knowing that you are bored and doing nothing about it.”

 

The man lets out a laugh upon hearing that. “Are you developing your own set of beliefs already?”

 

“You are boring. This whole procedure is boring.” Kamukura doesn’t answer the question. “If you people are going to teach me something, skip to that. My wellbeing… these pleasantries… they do not matter.”

 

“It looks like nothing I say will change your mind.” The man stands up and places a paper in front of him. “Do you know how experiments work? First, of course, there is the variable that you would want to observe. You will perform an activity—something you think will elicit an effect from the variable—and then observe after, taking down the differences. Normally, there would be a control variable too, but it is not exactly applicable in cases where you only have one subject.”

 

“I already know this. You did not have to waste your breath explaining these trivial things to me.”

 

The man laughs again. “Of course. I apologize. Well, then, that paper that is in front of you is a test paper. And this,” He places a booklet atop it. “Is a test booklet. I am to observe something from you, so you should answer the questions with all your might. I will come back when your allotted time ends to give you a new test booklet. Perform well, Kamukura-kun. Make us note good differences.”

 

Kamukura follows the man with his eyes until the man finally exits the room. He then darts his attention to the white paper. Something about this whole deal makes him feel uncomfortable—it feels like a painful flame within his chest—but he does not understand what. Feeling that way is unnecessary, however, even more so than the delay that the man from earlier keeps on causing.

 

So he decides that he doesn’t care as he reads the questions.

 

The line that passes through two parallel lines—

 

The small flame on his chest kept on burning.

 

The questions are ridiculously easy he felt insulted that anyone even thought it was a good idea for him to answer this test.

 

He finishes the subtest of one hundred questions in 16.67 minutes.

 

\--

 

“You finished a test meant to be taken for seven hours in an hour and 35.4 minutes.” The man from earlier was holding the test paper in his hands, eyeing it with awe as if it held a miracle so powerful, a miracle capable of curing a lethal plague that infected millions. “Not only that, you even got a total of a hundred percent questions right! Everything is looking like a success already… I cannot contain myself.”

 

“I guessed a few items. A total of five items from the General Information subtest.” Kamukura replies, his eyes gazing on the floor just like earlier. “But I knew that luck would take care of the things I did not know.”

 

“Luck...” The man repeats. “Of course. Luck is a talent too, after all.”

 

“I know it is.”

 

“So you agree. The concept of luck being a talent is quite debatable around here, if you must know. Only a few actually shares our view, though that few includes the headmaster.”

 

“Luck...” The discomfort that he was feeling is back. “Luck is undoubtedly interesting. If ever there exists a situation when mere talent could not accomplish the intended goal, then luck could handle the rest. Though that is only valid with the assumption that one is gifted with luck.”

 

“Indeed. Well, since we already are in this conversation, let us test your luck.” The man then holds two closed fists in front of him. “In one of this is a coin. Where do you think is it?”

 

“Your left hand.” Kamukura tentatively looks at the man’s face before looking back at the floor. “Not because I got lucky, but because people tend to have their noses pointed towards the right answer when it comes to this game. It’s subconscious, but I am sure that you will use this knowledge to your advantage and correct yourself next time.”

 

“Interesting. Well, now that I know about that, then maybe I will be more difficult to figure out now.” The man hides his hands behind him for a while before returning them to their previous position. “So where is it now?”

 

“Still on your left hand. It was a small action, but your fingers twitched a bit as if to hide the coin better. Not only that, you obviously deliberately kept your nose pointed towards your left hand… probably as an attempt to confuse me.”

 

“Impressive.” The man smiles, nodding a bit. “This is not good, though… I meant to test your luck, but you are using your abilities to find out instead of just being lucky.”

 

“Luck is a last resort.” Kamukura crosses his arms. “As long as I can still use other means, then I will not rely on it.”

 

“Understood. Let us try this then.” The man promptly stands up and goes towards the drawer in the room. Kamukura curiously eyes him for a while before he decides that he rather keep on staring at the white floor, after all. The man goes back quickly, placing a deck of cards on the desk of Kamukura’s chair.

 

“Of course. Cards. How predictable.”

 

“Right now, I cannot really think of a better alternative.” The man lets out a chuckle as he deals five cards in front of Kamukura, all facing down except the first one. “You are to guess if the next card is higher or lower than the previous. I myself would not know the outcome, so I cannot unknowingly manifest a tell just like earlier. This time, the results will purely be dependent on your luck.”

 

“First of all, we have to decide the value for the aces and the order of the suits.” Kamukura eyes the only upturned card. The six of clubs. “Is the ace higher than the king or lower than two? Which suit is higher than the rest in case of a tie?”

 

“Of course. Important questions to discuss beforehand.” The man looks at the card too. “Then let the aces be greater than the kings, the spades be stronger than the hearts, the hearts than the diamonds, then the diamonds than the clubs.”

 

“Understood.” Kamukura nods. “I say the next card is higher.”

 

The man upturns the next card. The seven of hearts. “Good job. I would have said it was lower if it were me.”

 

Kamukura ignores the comment. “Higher.”

 

Eight of clubs. “Good.”

 

“Lower.”

 

Five of clubs. “Good.”

 

“Lower.”

 

Two of hearts. “Amazing.” The man’s smile at the cards was so big it was as if they personally did him a good deed. “I played along in my head and made a mistake twice. Your luck is incredible.”

 

“Five cards in a row is boring. It would have been a better idea if you had me predict the entire deck.”

 

“Then you would have memorized the cards that were already upturned. You will not be relying on luck if we do that. You did say it was a last resort.”

 

“That may be right, but it would have been more interesting.” Kamukura faces him. “How about you choose randomly between the ace of spades and the two of clubs and I will predict fifty cards in a row with your chosen card as the last?”

 

“Then I might manifest a tell, and you would read me.”

 

“Choose in random, I said. You need not to know what you chose.” Kamukura stacks the cards together and slides it to the man. “Do it. Let us both see how lucky I really am.”

 

“This does not make sense.” Or so the man says, but he searches for the cards that Kamukura mentioned anyway. “After all, you fix your chance here to fifty percent. With the previous activity, you have lower chances.”

 

“This is more interesting, isn’t it?” Kamukura replies as he watches the two mentioned cards being shuffled and separated from the rest. “Having an equal chance of losing and winning… the outcome could easily go both ways. And if I win anyway despite that, I can say that I have been really lucky, right?”

 

“Is it not better to win with a chance so low?”

 

“Fifty percent.” Kamukura can say that he actually might have felt excited that time. “Fifty percent is a more fun probability to play with.”

 

“If it suits your fancy.” The man shuffles the rest of the deck. “Show me.”

 

\--

 

Ten of diamonds.

 

“Lower.” Kamukura says. There are only five cards left. His excitement grows even more as they near the end.

 

Eight of hearts. “Good.”

 

“Higher.”

 

Ace of clubs. “Good.”

 

“Lower.”

 

Nine of diamonds. “Good.”

 

“Higher.”

 

Jack of diamonds. “Good.” The man’s hand hovers over the last card, the one that is either the ace of diamonds or the two of clubs. Despite not being the one playing, the man seems excited and nervous too for how this would end.

 

Fifty percent. It could easily go both ways, as Kamukura said. Kamukura has managed to predict correctly fifty of the cards with nothing but pure luck. It doesn’t make sense for him to actually feel like he could be wrong now for the last one, especially since he's someone who is loved by talent.

 

Luck is a talent, so it should be a given that he does this well too.

 

“I say lower.” Kamukura says. The excitement within him is growing and growing. “The next card is probably the two of clubs.”

 

“Are you sure?” The man asks as he places his hand on the last card. “Admittedly, I was wrong a total of twenty times while I tried to guess along with you in my head, but I think the next card is higher. The ace of diamonds.”

 

“I say it is lower.” Kamukura repeats. “Though we have an equal chance of winning, so we would not know until we check. Unless we look, the next card is both the ace of diamonds and the two of clubs at the same time. This state of uncertainty… it’s actually likeable.”

 

“Is that a reference to Schrodinger’s cat?” The man sounded amused. “Being and not being at the same time… right, then let us see. That is the only way for us to be sure.”

 

The man upturns the last card, and Kamukura actually holds his breath. It was as if time slowed down as the card slowly shows its face. His heart was beating fast, and he stared at the last card closely, and when he sees what was written on it—

 

“Boring.” It was the two of clubs. “So terribly boring. If you had doubts about my luck, then it should be gone by now.”

 

“You easily could have been wrong for a second there.”

 

“True, but I was not.” Kamukura goes back to staring at the white floor. “And that is what matters.”

 

\--

 

The next time the man returns to the room, he puts a knife deep in Kamukura’s hand.

 

Or at least tried to because Kamukura immediately takes the knife from him before he even does, pinning the man’s hand with his, knife on the ready. “What was that for?”

 

The man laughs. “I was instructed to test your reflexes. Top marks.”

 

Kamukura lets go of the man’s hand, but he doesn’t return the knife. “It was unnecessary to do that.”

 

“Well, just continue holding the knife like that. The next activity requires you to use it.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Are you familiar with the game they call knife game?” The man asks. “Others even call it five finger fillet. A rather creative name, but I believe it is quite juvenile.”

 

“It’s that game where people place their palms on a surface with their fingers apart,” Kamukura places his palm on the desk just like he said. “And then stab the spaces while following a pattern, all the while trying to keep the fingers safe.”

 

“Well said. I know this game looks childish and senseless, but we believe it is a good test of your coordination, control, and confidence.” The man smiles. “So stab away and impress us.”

 

Just like the previous activity, this one sounded interesting too.

 

But Kamukura is sure that it will only take a while before everything becomes too easy, too predictable, and it will go back to being nothing but boring.

 

\--

 

The desk was filled with stab marks by the time the man tells Kamukura to stop, his fingers still untouched.

 

“That was boring.” He says. “If you wanted to test my coordination, control, and confidence, then you should know that I am well-coordinated, in control, and confident by now.”

 

“Of course. I did not expect anything less from you.” The man runs his hand on the stab marks on the desk. “Looks like we will have to get you another desk. Or perhaps you can do something to mask the marks on your own and make it as good as new? Tell me what materials you will need and we will provide them.”

 

“I refuse.” Kamukura crosses his arms. “I already know I could repair this table—and do it well—so I rather not.”

 

The man laughs. “If you say so. Well, then, for your next activity… Why not try making a simple program? We will provide a laptop you can use and a programming book for your reference.”

 

“The book is not necessary. Just give me the laptop and I will get it done.”

 

\--

 

“Programming is also boring.” Kamukura says as he continues typing his codes. “Maybe I should stop doing these little tasks of yours… They do nothing but make me realize with each second how terribly uninteresting everything is.”

 

“Let me see what you have so far.”

 

Kamukura slides the laptop toward the man. He looks at the white floor as the man scrolls through his progress and checking what he has so far. “What program are you trying to make?”

 

“I am going to make a program that can connect this device to chosen devices within its vicinity.”

 

“Oh?” The man lifts an eyebrow. “Like the already existing Bluetooth function?”

 

“No. You are patronizing me.” Kamukura continues to type as soon as the man slides it back to him. “This is a program that will allow this laptop to see the screens of its chosen devices. It can be any device that is within thirty feet or in metric system, 9.144 meters. To add to that, it can also be a device connected to the same wireless local area network. And I will design it so that the device will not know that the laptop is connecting to it.”

 

“Ah, yes, invasion of privacy. Very splendid.”

 

“You asked me to create a program, and I complied. You have no right to complain.”

 

“Right, and of course, you will return that laptop to us anyway.”

 

“This is mine now.” Kamukura looks up. “If you take it away from me, I will leave. While I do not fully understand why yet, it is awfully clear to me that you need me here. And the two of us should know that that sentiment is not mutual.”

 

“Ah, how amazing! It looks like you are already recognizing how to bargain!”

 

“I am not bargaining. If anything, shouldn’t you be the one trying to bargain with me right now?”

 

“Right, you are not bargaining.” The man nods. “You are demanding. How charming.”

 

“It looks like that you are sending a memo to everyone to disconnect from this place’s network.” Kamukura looks up from the laptop. “All of you might as well maintain a distance of more than thirty feet from me.”

 

“So that program of yours is already working.” The man pockets his phone. “What an impressively fast worker. I am impressed, but I am afraid I will have to leave now because it seems your presence is only good in small doses.”

 

Kamukura goes back to minding his program. That’s good. He’d very much prefer it if they all stop poking their noses in his space. He looks up to glare at the camera that isn’t even discreetly hidden in the corner of the room.

 

He destroys it later that day.

 

\--

 

“You got really fucked up, didn’t you?” The man who stood out earlier—the only one whose interest looked muted compared to everyone else, the one who kept his hands in his pockets and was the first one who left—is now in front of Izuru, his arms crossed. “I knew it would succeed, but even I didn’t know that the effect will be… this big.”

 

“…What are you talking about?” Kamukura raises an eyebrow. “You did not bring your phone with you. Memos go around fast.”

 

“I don’t want you to go poking around my phone. Of course you'd see nothing but the lock screen if ever, but who knows what freaky thing you can do.” The man makes a face. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

 

“Again, what are you talking about?”

 

“Whatever. You don’t have to understand.” He clicks his tongue. “Just… I'm still not your friend nor am I on your side, but like I promised, I’ll give him that box you left me. Because you got fucked up.”

 

“…What is the point of talking if you do not intend to be understood?”

 

“If he's not interested in your whereabouts though, I’ll just throw that box to the sea or something. That’s all I wanted to say. Bye.”

 

The man turns around, his hands in his pockets just like earlier, and leaves the room. In his stead, he left a huge feeling of confusion for Kamukura to deal with. Someone Kamukura doesn’t even know just barged in the room, spouted gibberish without even bothering to explain, and immediately left the room.

 

That’s something that’s strange even for someone as great as him.

 

\--

 

Monotonous would be the word that Kamukura would use to describe this place and everything that goes on in it. If he's not alone and using the laptop that has been too boring for him too, there would be the man or someone else dressed like him who would make him do different things.

 

The other day, someone had him draw a self-portrait. He didn’t comply and drew himself going out of this place instead. Still, the man looked impressed and complimented him about how ‘ _detailed this image was, I expected nothing less from someone as talented as you!_ ’

 

There was also someone who had him sing a song one time. He didn’t comply and wrote one instead. Still, the woman who instructed him to do that was impressed and complimented him about how ‘ _poignant this piece of writing was! I knew it was right to expect good things from you!_ ’

 

Then there was someone who had him cook a specific recipe using some provided ingredients. He didn’t comply and made something completely different instead. Still, the man was impressed and complimented him about how ‘ _resourceful you are! You were able to create something like this despite the restriction! Amazing!_ ’

 

Whatever task he does ends up successful. Not like that’s a surprise to him.

 

And that’s exactly why all of this is monotonous. Nothing is surprising. Everything is predictable.

 

How boring.

 

\--

 

“Does anything hurt?” The strange man comes back again a few days later. Those words would usually be spoken laced with concern, but the man just looks utterly uninterested while holding a pen and a notepad. “Just answer already so I can get this over with.”

 

“You are strange.” Kamukura says instead of answering the question. “Who are you?”

 

“None of your business. Does anything hurt?”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“Alright, it looks like nothing hurts. You also performed everything they asked you to do well, so I bet you're not in any kind of discomfort. I'm going now. This was a waste of time.”

 

“All of this is a waste of time, yet you all do it anyway. I do not understand why you would complain now of all times.”

 

“You talk too much.”

 

“You said more things compared to me.”

 

“Whatever.” The man clicks his tongue. “I’ll come back later. Go knock out yourself having fun like you always do.”

 

“You look like you are having fun too.”

 

The man shoots him a glare before actually leaving.

 

\--

 

A woman enters the room next, holding a chessboard. Kamukura already knows that she's going to have him do something, so he decides to speak before she even does. These people seem to enjoy it when he says something.

 

“Who was that?”

 

The woman blinks. Just like Kamukura thought, she looked surprise at the fact that he spoke first. “The person who exited before me? Matsuda-kun?”

 

“Matsuda.” He repeats. “Matsuda what?”

 

“Matsuda Yasuke. He is the Super High School Level Neurologist. A very skilled and respectable boy, that one is. Is there anything wrong?”

 

“No.”

 

He doesn’t respond anymore, but he does play chess with the lady afterward.

 

He wins in less than five minutes.

 

\--

 

Kamukura wakes up to the sound of the door opening. While he also took note of someone visiting him at this hour being strange—eight in the evening isn’t too late per se, it’s just that the latest time he usually gets visited is at five in the afternoon—he notices more the off feeling of the atmosphere.

 

He sits up, making sure to stay alert.

 

First, it was just Matsuda who went inside. He had the usual scowl on his face, his arms crossed, but there was something else that Kamukura had to analyze to understand. There was a hint of… apprehension in his face. Muted it was, but Kamukura was skilled enough to pick it up anyway.

 

“Come on, Matsuda-kun! Don’t be such a killjoy! Even Naegi-kun isn’t saying anything about it!” A girl with strawberry blonde hair follows him closely, a wide toothed grin plastered on her face. Kamukura immediately notices the bloodied knife in her right hand, along with the almost imperceptible splashes of blood on her black blouse. “If you continue being such a lame-o, I’ll leave you for Naegi-kun!”

 

“Enoshima-san, you shouldn’t say things like that to Matsuda-kun. That’s not a good joke, you know.” Kamukura hears another voice. It was soft and gentle, unlike the girl’s boisterous one, and another person enters the room. There was a boy with light brown hair—he carried a smile on his face, and he looked almost harmless this way, but Kamukura feels something within him.

 

There's something that tells him that these people cannot be trusted.

 

Again, he makes sure to stay alert.

 

“Boo! Whatever! You both suck!” The girl—Enoshima as… presumably the one called ‘Naegi’ said—waves the knife, her free hand flashing a thumbs down. She immediately turns her head to stare at Kamukura, still with that toothed grin, and then he was reminded that he wasn’t here to stay being a bystander. Not at all. There must be a reason why these people barged in here of all places. “Hey, hey, what do you think? There's nothing wrong with killing five people on the way here, right? I mean, it could have been worse, after all! At least there were only five!”

 

“What I'm saying is it was unnecessary.” Matsuda interrupts. “It’s why I'm here anyway. So we can enter quietly.”

 

“Shhh! Matsuda-kun, you know I love you very much, but let him speak! You're not making a good first impression!” She pauses. “Oh, wait, you already met him, didn’t you? Then let me and Naegi-kun bond with him! The two of us have always wanted to be friends with him, you know!”

 

She immediately faces Kamukura again. “So, so what do you think? Please show me that you're more fun than these two I'm with!”

 

“I am not aware of the exact circumstances, but from what I can see, you wanted to go here without being caught.” Her grin widens when Kamukura speaks. He's briefly reminded of all the people who come in this place asking him to do things. “It is true that Matsuda being here will make it unnecessary for you to kill someone.”

 

“Aw, fine! All these cute guys are ganging up on me! The despair is so strong that my heart won’t stop beating so fast!” She squeals. “Oh, no, I can’t really get mad at any of you if you're making me feel this way!”

 

“What are you all doing here?” It’s obvious that these people don’t possibly mean anything well, but Kamukura is curious about what they have to say.

 

“We simply wanted to establish a connection.” She stands upright, placing her free hand on her waist. It felt like a completely different person decided to replace her position without any of them noticing. “With you, specifically. It is true that Naegi Makoto—” She gestures to him, although it was unnecessary as Kamukura has concluded that much. “—and yours truly have always wanted to meet you. All we are doing right now is satisfying our wants.”

 

Naegi waves at him, still with that same beatific smile. Despite the smile looking so calm, Kamukura can feel the impossible-to-ignore toxic vibe that comes with it. Between Enoshima who looks straightforwardly off and this Naegi person who hides behind a kind demeanor, Kamukura wonders who exactly is more poisonous.

 

“I'm Naegi Makoto.” There was the gentle voice again. Along with it comes his hand, being offered to Kamukura. "Super High School Level Hope, from Class 78. Haha, it's an embarrassing talent, I still don't think I deserve it, but... It's nice to meet you."

 

“Super High School Level Hope.” Kamukura ignores his hand. “They call me the Super High School Level Hope too.”

 

“That’s nice! So we have the same talent, huh? Maybe we’ll understand each other better compared to everyone else.”

 

“To think that you were able to trick them into thinking that that title suits you… I wonder exactly how you work.”

 

“Haha, saying ‘trick’ is a little too much. After all, isn’t hope subjective?” Naegi retracts his hand when it becomes clear to him that Kamukura won’t shake it. “I didn’t trick any of them. Whatever I do, I’ll always be quite hopeful. I’ve been told that a version of me that isn’t hopeful is not me at all.”

 

“I feel sorry for anyone who thinks that way.”

 

“I'm really quite full of hope. That’s not a joke or a lie at all.” He scratches the back of his head. “I have dreams I want to accomplish. They're rather big dreams, if I might say. And if one wants to fulfill a dream, then that person has to have hope, right? Do you think you're more suitable of the title compared to me?”

 

“This place believes that talent is the source of hope. I am loved by talent, so I think that I am the most suitable to be the Super High School Level Hope.”

 

“Really now? My talent includes being able to identify what the other person is feeling at a given moment.” Naegi replies. “Right now, do you know what I'm feeling?”

 

Kamukura stares at his eyes. It was so easy to be tricked by the seemingly easygoing look Naegi’s green eyes have, but Kamukura knows that he has to look deeper. Beneath Naegi’s sweet exterior, there lies an endless pool of…

 

Anger.

 

“What is wrong with you?”

 

“That doesn’t really answer my question, you know.” He smiles sheepishly. “Come on now. I’d be really disappointed if you can’t sense what I'm feeling.”

 

Just before Kamukura speaks, Enoshima suddenly leaps between the two of them, breaking their eye contact. He finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at her, his annoyance deepening pretty fast. She grins—his displeasure must have been visible—as she waves the knife at him again. “Awww, it’s so, so cute that you two are staring at each other like that, but Matsuda-kun and I are starting to feel super duper left out here, y’know? Don’t ignore us!”

 

“Ah, I'm sorry, Enoshima-san, Matsuda-kun.” Naegi smiles at the both of them. “I hadn’t realized that I was hogging his attention.”

 

“I don’t care. I'm tired of seeing his face every day.” Matsuda clicks his tongue. “You do what you want.”

 

“How despair-inducingly harsh.” Enoshima comments. “And to utter that in front of the person you are talking about… You are exceptionally ruthless, Matsuda Yasuke.”

 

“Anyway, let me hear it, please.” Naegi speaks again. “Tell me. What am I feeling right now?”

 

“Bile. Too much of it. Your temperament must be choleric.”

 

Naegi laughs. “Don’t you think I look sanguine?”

 

“You _look_ sanguine, yes.”

 

“Well, it’s interesting that you're trying to determine my temperament even if it’s our first time to meet. Sadly, though, I’ll have to say that you’ve got that wrong.” Naegi sighs. “Bile is not what I'm feeling right now.”

 

“You are lying.”

 

“I wasn’t lying.” Naegi giggles. “You're being really weird right now, you know?”

 

“So much hostility coming from just one person… I find it impossible to ignore and even more impossible to commit a mistake. Don’t think you can fool me.”

 

“I can’t believe it… Were you trained to think that you're always right? That when you commit a mistake, you'll have to assume that you're being fooled?” Naegi bites his lower lip. “I know. I understand. I hate making mistakes too. But I'm sorry to say that you'll have to accept it this instance. Bile is not what I'm feeling right now.”

 

Then what is that? It’s far too easy to claim something even if the contrary is what is true, but Kamukura decides to double check anyway even if it’s unlikely that he was mistaken. He stares at Naegi again who smiles as a response, and that was when he realizes something.

 

It was true.

 

Anger isn’t what Naegi is feeling right now.

 

It just happened that it was a constant and strong sensation within him, to the point that it masked everything else that Kamukura could notice from him. To be fair, Kamukura wasn’t completely wrong as Naegi was technically indeed feeling anger _right now_ , but he can’t believe that he failed to see everything at first glance.

 

“Anticipation.” Kamukura finally speaks again. “You really are excited to meet me, excited about a lot of things. Why is that?”

 

“What a weird question to ask… why someone is excited, I mean.” Naegi chuckles. “I suppose I just am. I’ve been waiting for you for a long time now. And now that I found you, I want you to be my friend.”

 

“What made you think I would agree?”

 

“Because I can sense too what you feel right now. As I said, my talent includes that.” Naegi pauses. “Ennui… was it?”

 

“Too easy. Of course I would be bored, considering that everything is too easy for me.”

 

“You weren’t able to guess what I felt right away though! And if you come with me, with us… I'm sure you'll find more things that won’t be too easy.”

 

“A bold claim.”

 

“A sure claim.” Naegi chuckles again. “Well, then, I hope you don’t let this pass. We’ll be expecting you. Until then.”

 

It was almost as if nothing was real as the three of them left, Enoshima winking at him before completely exiting the room. The door closes behind them, and Kamukura was left with nothing but that constant and monotonous silence.

 

\--

 

That night, Kamukura Izuru leaves the place.

 

The next day, he became the murderer of five researchers from Hope’s Peak Academy.

 

\--

 

 


End file.
